


Gruß vom Krampus

by Lightspeed



Series: Monstrous Intent [33]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Anal Sex, Autofellatio, Biting, Bondage, Chains, Choking, Come Inflation, Creampie, Flogging, Holidays, Knotting, M/M, Rimming, Scratching, Smissmas, Werewolf!Demoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 23:22:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2791454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightspeed/pseuds/Lightspeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sniper’s been a very naughty boy this year, and has made sure to send letters to the North Pole stating this fact in rather explicit, violent detail.  It took some doing, but his stunt got him noticed by a certain Austrian holiday monster, who’d decided to make a few exceptions to his usual methods in order to mete out a special punishment for Mr. Mundy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gruß vom Krampus

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently there was a full moon on December 23rd, 1969. Who knew?

Twas the night before Smissmas, and all through the mansion not a creature was stirring, not even the Sniper. He poured his mug of coffee and looked to the sugar pot with derision. Nothing was getting stirred into his beloved Ethiopian roast. Altering it would cover up its full flavour and delicate notes. The fact that Demoman tended to like his coffee light and sweet horrified the bushman, and it was perhaps the single thing about the handsome bomber that Sniper could find to criticize.

After all, he was pretty much the perfect boyfriend. Blisteringly intelligent, clever, funny, incredibly handsome, adorable, and of course, being a werewolf didn't hurt, either. Well, actually, it did. The night prior, in fact, had seen the two rutting in the desert like the animals they were, snarls and desperate moans filling the night air as Demoman took his mate in the dust. Given their furlough together at Demoman's home, the two lovers had taken care to stay as far from the mansion as possible, lest they alert and upset Lady DeGroot, who'd spent the full moon curled up on the couch in her Smissmas jumper and dressing gown, feet transformed into clawed paws and unable to hold onto slippers, lapping calmly from her teacup as the old wolf listened to her evening shows and waited for herself to tire enough to make her way to bed.

But all the same, Sniper thought as he padded on bare feet from the kitchen to the living room of the darkened mansion, lit only by the twinkling lights of the Smissmas tree, his perfect boyfriend still had rubbish taste in coffee. He slumped into the armchair nearest the tree, knocking his hat from its spot on the arm rest. A plate of cookies and empty glass of milk sat beside him on an end table. Idly, he poked at the cookies. He'd eaten half of them already, and was starting to lose his taste for the sweets.

The night had been a long stretch. He'd seen Demoman to bed with kisses and cuddles, and excused himself to go wait. The Scot had called him barmy for staying up and testing his luck, but saw no true harm in such things. After all, if Sniper were right, it's not like he was going to be dragged off to Hell. He was a grown man, not a child. Worst he'd get is a good lashing, which is part of what he was interested in, anyway. Allowing his lover to leave with a last kiss for luck, Demoman had rolled himself up tight in his blankets and drifted off to sleep, likely to starfish across the bed within the hour anyway.

Sniper looked to the clock as he slurped loudly on his coffee. It was just after midnight, and Smissmas day had technically arrived. He'd tried this earlier in the month to no avail, and sitting there in his dressing gown and necklace, he crossed one ankle over his knee and continued to wait.

It was just after the stroke of one when hoof-beats sounded on the roof. A smirk crawled across the bushman's lips. They were not the rowdy stomping of eight quadrupeds and the slide of one magic sleigh. Of course they wouldn't be. No children lived in the DeGroot house, let alone any nice ones. Instead, it was the slower, more precise gait of a single pair of hooves from a creature walking upright, tromping across the shingles with purpose. He set down his coffee, opened his robe, and waited, legs splayed.

In a flash of flames belching forth from the darkened, inactive fireplace, a figure materialized in the curling smoke and fire rolling forth from the hearth. It was tall, imposingly so, even to Sniper, and stood on two unguligrade legs, its muscular form clad in thick, shaggy grey fur. A long, lion-like tail writhed in the air behind it, and atop its head, a pair of massive goat's horns curled up and back from its forehead, sitting above a hideous face both bestial and human at once. Long pointed ears pierced through with rings arched back in a similar path to the horns, and upon its back, it wore a washtub strapped around its shoulders. Its clawed hands held a set of shackles and chains and a birch bundle gathered and tied to make a flogger. It turned to see Sniper, and all at once the creature's fearsome facade crumbled into an expression of annoyance.

"Mundy. This is how you greet company? With your dick out?" it groused, its voice deep and rumbling, speaking guttural German. The sound of it slithered right into the bushman's guts and made a beeline for his groin, and he could feel his body beginning to respond already.

"You're about twenty days late, aren't you, Krampus?" Sniper replied with a chuckle, his German coming out in a fried purr. He made a show of sitting up a bit, serving to make them both aware of how hard he was quickly getting just looking at the beast.

"Honestly, you should be glad I arrived at all. The United States is largely out of my jurisdiction. The desert doubly so. I would not have come here at all were it not for two extenuating circumstances."

"Oh?"

"The first being that when Nicholas read your letter, listing your crimes over just the past year alone, he nearly died. He may be supernatural, but please, when trying to prove just how naughty you've been, do make an effort to avoid putting canonized elves into cardiac arrest, yes?"

"It got your attention, didn't it?"

"By deputizing me to come see you personally, yes. But not exactly the best way of going about it. You could have just addressed the damned thing to me. Or simply asked, you know."

"Not exactly a lot of official channels for getting hold of The Krampus. Sorry for upsettin' Claus."

"I'll be sure to bring the apology back with me. But now we have the second reason I'm here. I've heard about you. Not just your crimes but your tastes and hobbies, too. I come after the naughty, Mr. Mundy. I can't think of anyone more...naughty," the Krampus drawled, his tongue slipping from his mouth. It was long and forked, and he quickly pulled it back, his point made.

Sniper grinned wide, standing from his seat. He let his dressing gown slide from his shoulders to stay on the chair as he approached the Krampus, his cock bobbing, half-hard already just from ogling the massive monster.

The Krampus looked Sniper up and down and shook his head. What a cocky son-of-a-bitch, getting exactly what he wants. Best not make it easy on him. Best make him earn it.

Once the bushman was within reach, the Krampus snatched hold of him by his neck, lifting him into the air. Sniper clutched at his massive, clawed hand, choking and kicking the air. His face began to redden as he was supported by nothing but the monster's strength and his own arms tugging himself aloft. It did nothing to diminish his erection, the Krampus noted. He threw the assassin to the floor, watching him crumple into a heap on the carpet and begin to search for a weapon. Chains dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, followed by the birch bundle, and those clawed hands grasped at his wrists, holding them tight. Sniper yelped as his arms were brought over his head, dragging him to sit before the mighty Krampus as the beast took hold of the shackles and closed them around the human's wrists, chains leading between them and away, weighing him down once the beast released hold of him. He dropped to the floor again, held there on his belly by the impossibly heavy shackles and chains, gasping and panting for air.

He was terrified out of his wits, and it couldn't have been more arousing. Sniper watched with wide, blue eyes as the Krampus rounded on him, taking the birch bundle back in hand, sizing him up. The beast was practically ogling the scrawny Australian, tongue slipping out to lick at his chops. Dimly, Sniper imagined what else he would do with it.

"You wanted to prove how naughty you were," the Krampus teased, lightly swatting at Sniper with the birch flogger. "Well now you've gone and proven it. You get to reap the whirlwind. On your knees; present your ass. Now."

Sniper did as he was told, gathering his legs under himself and pushing up onto his knees, his elbows digging into the rug as he found himself utterly unable to lift his arms up. He lifted his ass up, his breath coming in eager stutters.

The birch bundle fell across his ass, and the sting of the collection of switches snapping over his skin made him yelp. The Australian arched up, the pain stabbing into him and sending a throb straight to his balls. His ass ached still from the previous night's manhandling, little scratches and scrapes along his hips, cheeks, and thighs still red and angry with fresh scabs. The dull ache woke up fresh, new, alive as the second stroke fell, the sharp blow accompanied by fire beginning to smoulder in his wounds, and it burned away the oxygen from his lungs.

The third swat connected, and with it, Sniper let out another sound, a low mewl, the shock fading into acceptance and endurance. It hurt, but it was so good, and he was into the rhythm as the fourth, fifth, and sixth came in rapid succession, making him jolt forward and release quiet moans each time. The Krampus watched with interest as the red-faced human endured his punishment with masochistic pleasure. All the same, he noted the cuts and scratches covering Sniper's slim body. The puncture wounds at his hips and shoulders, the long claw-marks down his back, the bite marks along his shoulders and neck. It all served to tell the beast that the mercenary had been in the company of another monster very recently.

"Who is it who's marked you so thoroughly, I wonder?" the Krampus teased, another swat rocking the bushman in his spot. "You've been bitten and scratched, wounded, no doubt, in the throes of ecstasy. Was it that boyfriend of yours? The werewolf? I know of him. Wasn't the full moon just last night?"

Sniper gasped as two more blows landed on his ass. He could feel heat building in his cheeks, a pinkness he was sure was deepening quickly with each vicious, stinging blow. His cock ached too, so hard and so wanting, and the memories of his romp with Demoman just the night prior only made him hungrier. "Yes," he hissed, arching into another swat. "We shagged out in the desert. Tavish took me, fucked me, made me his."

"Tell me more," the Krampus growled, a laugh trying to push through as he landed another blow on the panting human, this one harder, demanding.

"'e's a werewolf. Big, furry, all teeth and claws and a prick so big I don't know 'ow it fits in me. With a knot," Sniper rambled, leaning into the next blow and moaning as it moved him. "'e helped me prepare before 'e changed. Ate my arse, licked me until I 'ad to gag myself for moanin' too loud too close to the house. Then 'is fingers. Stretched me so wide, got 'is fist in there and fucked me with it. Shit," he gasped, feeling his cock throb at the memory. Another set of swats got him talking again. "Slicked me up good, and night fell. 'e transformed, and I took off at a run. Got some distance between us as 'e changed, and when 'e finished, 'e took off after me. Chased me, ran me down, out in the dust," he continued, his words warbling a bit as lighter swats interrupted him just enough to amuse the Krampus.

"What then?"

"Tackled me, pinned me to the ground and bit my neck. Drew blood, but neither of us really cared much. Then it was 'is claws on my back, 'oldin' me down as 'e pushed inside me. 'e wasn't gentle. Never is. I don't want 'im to be. 'e pushed in until I could feel him flush against me. So bloody full, and 'e fucked me until 'e knotted. Then 'e fucked me more, until 'e filled me up all howlin'. And when 'e could go again, 'e did it again. And again. And again," Sniper groaned, repeating himself with each swat as they grew harder again, heavier, harder still until he could barely stand the impact. He lost himself in the stinging pain, the flames that danced along his skin and blood that prickled beneath his flesh as his ass grew red and the lashing did not abate. "And again. And again," he murmured, like a mantra now, his voice fading to a whisper as his forehead lowered to rest on his fists, his shoulders slouching as heat and pain were all he knew. All he could think about was the aching stretch and vicious pounding of Demoman's knotted cock inside him, filling him with volumes of come until he could feel the pressure in his insides like he was about to burst, and the sticky, hot liquid leaking out of him with each thrust.

The Krampus smiled, seeing Sniper's body quivering. From the mumbling, he could tell he'd lost the bushman. He wasn't getting off that easy. At least, not yet. He halted his assault, having lost count of how many times his flogger had fallen upon the supine human's backside. It was bright red and streaked with welts, and the Krampus quite fancied the look, framed by the wounds Demoman had left behind. "You love it, don't you? Being manhandled by something greater and more powerful than you are? By someone who isn't human, not your own species? How positively filthy," he teased.

Sniper sucked in a breath, coming out of his haze and realizing for the first time that he'd been drooling. He sucked up his saliva and wiped his lips on his arm, panting. Turning those eyes, burning with lust, up at the Krampus, he nodded. "Yeh."

"Good," the Krampus growled, winding up and raining down another blow on Sniper's ass, making him cry out. He brought the birch down again, again, again, his swats harder than they'd been, their hardest yet, bringing stinging burns to Sniper's bare skin, making him crumple and crumble, and tears to well in his eyes. It hurt, it hurt so much, but it hurt so good, and Sniper twisted to glance back up with his wet eyes and see the Krampus' interest finally piqued. His cock peeked from its sheath, a muted maroon in colour, with a wide head and a shaft to match.

The Krampus followed Sniper's line of sight, and with a grin, let his tongue loll out to its full length. It extended down his torso and curled around the head of his own cock, caressing and tickling at it with ease. The assassin's eyes grew wide as the monster before him groaned softly for effect. With one final swat, the Krampus relented with the birch, dropping it to the floor and letting Sniper fall to his hip, his cock hard and dribbling, a small wet spot on the carpet where his precome had fallen. He whimpered, but continued to watch the monster as he casually fellated himself to full hardness. He unslung the washbasin from his shoulders, dropping it to the floor without care for the loud clang that sounded. Sniper looked back toward the door in horror, realizing that Demoman and, worse, his mum, might hear.

"Worry not. None outside this room can hear us," the Krampus dismissed, resuming his show of laving his tongue over the head of his cock, looping it around the shaft and slipping it up and down the length to the tune of his soft moans. He slurped his tongue back up and knelt beside his quarry. "I have placed spells to ensure that." Taking hold of Sniper's chains, he rolled him onto his back, dick sticking up into the air and arcing back toward his belly, the head nearly purple with need. He took in the sight of the naked mercenary as he stretched his shackled hands out over his head, leaving him completely exposed and at his mercy.

Sniper's slim frame was dotted with scars new and old, and his chest and belly were clad in dark, fluffy hair that ran in a trail to his groin. He was an attractive human by any measure, and the Krampus definitely approved of what he had to work with. He took hold of the bushman's scrawny legs and hiked them up, folding him in half to perch on his upper back as he took the chain lead and wrapped it around his ankles, weighing his legs down so that he had to spread them to keep from tumbling over. His ankles crossed over his chest, the lead chain tugged round his shackles to keep him from unfolding himself. His sore ass hung just above the floor, and that was to where the Krampus made his way, his tongue slipping back out with a lurid slurp.

Sniper craned his head to see, but soon fell back to the floor when his entrance was probed by the hot tips of the great beast's forked tongue. "Fuck..."

The Krampus just laughed, letting his clawed hands slide along the hairy expanse of the human's exposed thighs, the pads of his fingertips lingering along the scabbed scratches from his previous night's encounter. His tongue pressed against Sniper's asshole, flattening and rubbing in slow, lazy circles around the puckered, hot flesh. The bushman's moans spilled forth, rolling out with his breath in low tones. He stared up at the ceiling, his lashes fluttering over narrow blue eyes with each new stimulus. The Krampus let his tongue slip down the cleft of Sniper's ass, teasing along until its forked tip tickled where his cheeks began their divide. He pressed the hot appendage along the length of the human's cleft, running to the back of his balls, and with a soft groan of his own, licked upward, dragging his tongue along the entire length of Sniper's ass and up his balls, relishing the loud moan that accompanied it. He teased at the assassin's balls, rolling them along his tongue as he lapped at them and caressed them, then retreated back to his entrance, where he began to circle the hole again.

Sniper whined, wriggling in place, a fresh drop of precome now cooling on his abdomen as he endured the exquisite torment. The Krampus was taking his time, toying with him, exploring his flesh with leisure and interest. He tasted here and lapped there, wrapped his tongue around places and let him languish in the pleasures of it slipping away.

Clenching and unclenching his hands, shackled and immovable, Sniper could only lay there and accept it, his feeble attempts at struggle stymied by the impossibly heavy chains. He didn't want to escape, nor was he especially trying to, but straining against the chains, hefting his arms and stretching and straining, knowing he was trapped at this monster's mercy as he pleasured him for his own amusement, it made Sniper ache and shiver all the more. When the Krampus pushed his tongue into the prone human, the hot, wet organ wriggling in past his sore muscles, it sent electricity through him. Sniper let out a near yowl, stretching into the touch, urging him forward by arching his ass up toward the beast, his eyes clenched tightly closed. It stole his breath and thoughts, the moist ingress of the Krampus' tongue inside of him, opening him and teasing at his depths. It quested deep, slithering into him, stretching him just a bit to let the dull ache of his sore asshole bring forth more memories of the punishment it had received the night prior. His ass cheeks burned, tingling and smouldering with what were surely vicious bruises quickly forming, and his whole lower body was a tightly wound spring of pleasure and pain that the tongue licking along the inside of his body, deeper and deeper, was bringing close to its breaking point.

Sniper moaned unashamedly, unabashedly, panting and fighting his bonds as he arched against the Krampus' tongue. He could feel it moving deep within him, a sensation he'd enjoyed before with different partners, but this time was no less captivating. It was at once disgusting and arousing, to feel his tongue probing so far into his body, tickling and lapping at him, writhing and flexing. He found himself very aware that the Krampus was making sure to let it undulate against his prostate whenever he could, milking more precome from his cock to drip onto his belly and dribble down his shaft. Sniper's throat was dry from loosing his voice in pleasure, but he could feel a line of drool leading down his cheek from the corner of his mouth. He was losing control of himself and it was amazing. Craning his neck to see, he watched as the Krampus' maw nearly brushed his balls, the breath from his panting groans warm against his skin, so close, pressing his long tongue so deep to slither and curl about, watching him the whole while. Clawed hands pet at his legs and ass, and when he was caught looking, a sharp nail dragged carefully up his taint as both a threat and a tease, and it sent his neck stock straight, nearly slamming the bushman's head against the floor with the jolt of sharp pleasure.

With a long, awful slurp, the Krampus withdrew his tongue, leaving Sniper empty and tingling with the remnants of the strange sensations. He'd almost grown used to the feeling of that tongue squirming within him, and now he felt oddly incomplete without it. Instead, the Krampus gave his taint a few friendly laps and chuckled.

"You've relaxed so much, like this is your natural state," he teased, probing gently at Sniper's hole with the tip of his tongue. "You've given way so readily. It's hard to imagine you're just a human and not some sort of sex demon." He flicked his forked tongue against the outside of his pliant entrance and laughed again at the gasp he received.

"Been with a few," Sniper panted, his senses slowly returning. "They're much prettier than me."

"I'm not going to disagree, though it's not like you look like I do," the Krampus grinned, sitting back on his knees. He swept a hand through the air, a red light trailing behind his fingers to well in one hand. It formed into the shape of a short cylinder and materialized into a jar. Popping it open, he dipped two fingers in and withdrew a clear, gel-like substance from within. "Few do."

"Can't 'ave that many handsome blokes runnin' around," the bushman wheezed, his eyes following those fingers as they dipped down to the Krampus' hard cock and began to spread the gel over its length. He licked his lips; the Krampus moaned softly as he pawed at himself.

"Are you talking about yourself or me?"

"Can't it be both?"

This earned him another laugh, and as the Krampus finished generously lubing himself up, he took hold of himself and dragged Sniper to meet him with one hand on his hip. He lined himself up against the bushman's well-licked hole and pressed the hot head of his dick against it. "I suppose it can. Merry Smissmas, Mr. Mundy." He pushed in, opening Sniper around him and being welcomed into the tight, well-used heat of the assassin's body.

Sniper tensed, his eyes snapping open, his hands tightening into white-knuckled fists, his toes curling. He bellowed out a cry, wordless noise that signaled his undoing, and as the Krampus pressed deeper, stretching him open and scorching him with the heat and size of his shaft, he squeezed his eyes shut and hissed through his teeth, panting wetly as spittle ran from the corner of his mouth. Balled up, bent in half, he was bound in place, able to do nothing but allow the Krampus to sheathe himself inside him, burying himself until his balls caressed the bushman's bruised backside. The tongue had been so deep, so strange, slippery and agile. This was size and might, insistent in its hot hardness, spreading his ass wide and filling him up. He panted through the pressure and the shocks, the prickles of pain along his sore muscles and flesh, the intrusive mass within him, the heavy weight against his prostate as he stilled and allowed the human a brief moment to come to terms with the bombardment of sensations he was enduring.

To add to the frenzy, that devilish tongue swept up his thigh and circled round to his belly, tickling down his abdomen to lap up the drops of precome that had collected on his flushed, hairy skin. When it encircled and wrapped around the length of Sniper's cock, his whine was desperate, raising in pitch as the Krampus enshrouded shaft and head in wet, limber tongue. He soon keened without sound, his voice unable to keep up with the intensity of overwhelming sensation, and when the Krampus began to pump his hips, he practically sobbed.

His cries came in hoarse yowls, barely identifiable as moans, and the Krampus wondered how much worse he was for wear when speared upon a werewolf's massive, knotted member. He fancied he'd have to do some peeping, sometime. America was out of his jurisdiction, but Mick Mundy was so naughty, he could be bothered to make an exception

He thrust slowly at first, giving him a chance to build to the crescendo of ecstasy that quickly had him quivering and useless. The human was gulping down air, heaving his breaths as the Krampus fucked them out of him, filling him with cock, his tongue twisting and sliding around Sniper's own shaft, tightening and gripping at him, slipping up and down its length to tug and fellate all at once. Mighty hands, clawed and dangerous, gripped his hips and prickled into his skin, making Sniper hiss as he felt his flesh giving way and blood begin to well. It was a sensation he knew well and recently, and never failed to bring the gravity of his situation crashing down. He was being fucked by an enormous monster. A monster whose thrusts were growing harder, more insistent, dragging him down onto his dick as much as he was pumping his hips into him. This furry beast, this creature of myth and legend, had abused and used him, and was filling his ass with his thick cock, fucking him with decreasing mercy. It made his balls ache and grow tight, and Sniper looked down the line of his body to watch the Krampus' horrifying face as he slurped around his cock, grunting and groaning in terrible, thrumming, inhuman ways as he took his pleasure of the prone human before him. The impact against his aching, bruised ass stung with each dull slap of fur to flesh, and each stroke of that monstrous phallus inside him brought him surging closer to devastation.

The Krampus' tongue slipped up the length of his cock, tightly hugging the head, and with a particularly hard thrust, Sniper was destroyed. He came with a desperate howl, his voice leaving him like it was spiriting his very life away, his overload complete as he came in thick, hot spurts along his belly and the monster's tongue. He felt like he'd ejaculated his entire soul, his body convulsing and shuddering in great, rocking paroxysms, spasms rippling through his abdomen and ass, squeezing around the phallus deep inside him. As his own orgasm began to subside, his cock leaking and throbbing, the Krampus followed him, his climax dragged forth by the hungry grasp of the mercenary's ass. His thrusts, hard, savage, stalled within Sniper as he roared his pleasure, pumping the human full of his seed in waves, each making him shiver.

When they stilled, all was quiet save for the exhausted panting of the room's two occupants. Sniper, full and blissed out, sore, overstimulated, and ecstatic, whimpered softly as the Krampus lapped at the come speckling his belly and leaking down his cock. He left most of it there, just sampling his taste with a soft groan. "I hope you liked your present," he teased, his voice still wispy as he caught his breath.

Sniper replied with a muzzy, unintelligible mumble, and grunted as the beast slipped out of his ass and unwrapped the chain from his ankles, freeing him to flop to the floor in a well-used heap. The Krampus unlocked his shackles, setting them aside as he set to work, materializing some rope out of thin air. "Let's give that handsome mate of yours my regards."

 

*

 

Smissmas morning was cold, freezing from a windy desert night, and as the morning sun began to insist upon his bedroom like an unwelcome guest, Demoman peeked blearily out of his cocoon of comforters to realize he was alone in bed. The blankets were all his, unshared, and the pillows beside his own were undisturbed, which mean that Sniper had never come to bed. Probably fell asleep on the chair in the living room. The gangly Australian could really sleep anywhere.

With a yawn and a grumble, Demoman untangled himself from his blankets, snatching his eyepatch from the night stand and slipping it on before rising and finding some pajama pants. He scratched at himself as he wandered to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, ignoring his morning shave and trim for the time being. There was time for that after his shower, and he'd better get the kettle and coffee maker running and go try to wake up his surely-freezing boyfriend.

Making his way downstairs, bare feet chilly upon the hard wood floor, Demoman was arrested immediately by the stink of sex chased by a light whiff of brimstone. He followed it to the living room, where he stopped dead in the doorway. "Mickey?"

"Merry Smissmas," Sniper mumbled sheepishly, his face red.

In a large metal washbasin sitting just beside the Smissmas tree lay Sniper on his back, ball-tied with his legs drawn to his chest, his ankles secured against his thighs, and his wrists on either side of his bent knees, secured with festive length of rope dotted with winking Smissmas lights. His ass was bruised bright purple with large red welts running along it, and from his hole, come was leaking slowly out. His hat sat atop his head, and a large blue ribbon was tied around his neck in a big bow. A tag of some sort hung from it.

Demoman approached slowly, eye wide, simultaneously horrified and turned on, and took hold of the tag. It read, 'Gruß vom Krampus'. He couldn't hold back a laugh, it barking out of him before he could stop himself, and Sniper joined him with a soft, tired chuckle. "Ye alright, Mickey?"

"I'll be just fine. After the past two nights, I don't think I'll be doin' much walkin' for the rest of furlough, though."

"Was it everything ye hoped for?"

"Good gods yes," the bushman purred with a shiver.

"Right, well, let's get ye cleaned up before Mum wakes. She cannae see the sight but it dunnae mean I want her tae find out," Demoman laughed. He made to pick his lover up, but thought better of it, walked around him, and opened the window first. "Smells like sulfur and semen in here." He carefully lifted his still-bound lover from the washtub, kicking it into the corner to be dealt with later, and hefted him up by his ropes. With a grunt of effort, he carried him down the hall toward the bathroom. "Ye okay with me liftin' ye this way?"

"Yeh, it doesn't hurt. The bonds are pretty sturdy and cleverly tied.. Krampus knows 'ow to knot a bloke."

"Well I suppose that makes two o' us."


End file.
